


The Last Resort of Good Women

by mysweetbologna



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Inquisition, F/M, Tevinter, Tevinter Imperium, dai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysweetbologna/pseuds/mysweetbologna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Hire:<br/>Dexsia Sigilus<br/>Tevinter mage and alchemist.<br/>Desperate for coin. Will do any job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Resort of Good Women

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thanks to dgcakes and gaurdian9sunshine for beta reading <3

Dexsia Sigilus slowly approached the towering gate of Skyhold, her steed’s reins in her gloved hands. What was it with Southerners and their love for the cold? A snow storm had kept her from reaching the fortress earlier, leaving her out in the freezing air a few days longer. She longed for the warmth of blankets and fur mantle, fires and spiced brandy, if the Free Marcher leading them even knew what that was. The Tevinter woman was without a doubt more than ready to seek shelter in the once-forgotten Skyhold, for all apparent reasons, and some other not so visible ones. The gate opened with a stuttering screech and a plainly armored soldier approached her, pulling a thin cloak around their shoulders.

 

“I’ve come… to join…” Dexsia shivered, her teeth chattering with the cold.

 

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to give me more than that,” the soldier barked. “If we let every other person in, we’d be overflowing.”

 

“I- I understand. Please, I just need to warm myself, and then I’ll tell you everything. You must let me in,” Dexsia pleaded, wringing her hands together. She blew onto them, in hopes to warm them that much more, hoping the soldier would hear her plea and take pity.

 

“I can’t let you do that. If you won’t tell me who you are and what you’re doing here, I can’t let you in. Inquisitor’s orders, you see. Now, what’s-”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m sure the Inquisitor wants the death of another person on her hands. Let the woman in!” A large, broad figure loomed over the soldier, evenly balanced horns atop their head. _For fuck’s sake is right_ , she thought to herself. _Maker’s breath, they’re here too_.

 

The soldier turned to face the giant Qunari, facing the expanse of his chest which Dexsia noticed was covered in countless scars. She couldn’t help but openly ogle the Qunari, with his proudly placed hands on his hips.

 

“The Inquisitor said-”

 

“I’ll deal with her later. Off with you. Go pull your head out of your ass or something,” the Qunari growled, shoving the soldier out of his way with one hand. Dexsia recoiled with a sharp intake of breath. He studied her with his one good eye for a few moments before breaking into a wide grin. “Welcome to the Inquisition. I’m the Iron Bull, of the Bull’s Chargers, best merc group you’ll find in these parts. Come on, lets get you warmed up.”

 

The Qunari merc passed off her horse to another soldier and steered her into the confines of the fortress. A hand rested on the small of her back, his touch smoldering like the glowing embers of a fire. She’d never been touched by a Qunari before and she wondered if he had noticed her nervousness; if so, he didn’t comment on it.

 

Iron Bull guided her further inside, pointing out a few buildings, greeting someone here and there until their short trek lead them to what Dexsia assumed was the tavern. Raucous laughter could be heard from outside, as well as the soft alto of a minstrel plucking at a lute. The door was thrown open and Dexsia jumped backwards, nearly tripping over Bull’s foot. An elf came stumbling out, her face screwed up into the remnants of excessive laughter, one hand clutching her stomach.

 

“Don’t mind Sera too much. She was probably playing a joke on the bartender,” Bull mused, waving a hand at the open door. _What did I get myself into? Knife ears running loose and Qunari dismissing the wishes of their leader. How… quaint._ “On second thought, watch out for her. Come on inside, we don’t bite. At least, not yet.”

 

With an almost feral grin, Bull ushered Dexsia to a table in the back of the tavern. The building was a bit musty and dark, and there was some dirt on the ground still, but it was comfortable, almost charming. _Not quite the parlors I’m used to._ Dexsia pulled her gloves off and tucked them into her lap, the leather stiff and cold. She wondered if the Inquisitor and her companions spent much time in the tavern, or if they actually worked as much as she had heard. Rumors were numerous in the Imperium, but that’s all they were: rumors. No one knew exactly what the Inquisition was doing, just that a woman led their forces and she had a wide variety of companions, though to what extent they didn’t know. She hoped to meet the Tevinter mage, if only to see if-

 

“-pretty magnificent woman if you ask me. You’ll see once you meet her. That is, if you tell me who you are.” Bull leaned back in his chair, limbs sprawled haphazardly in comfort.

 

“Mairsil. I heard about the Inquisition in Highever and wanted to join. If it’ll have me, that is. I know I’m going about this all the wrong way, but truthfully, there was little left for me back home, and the Inquisition’s cause is a just one.”

 

“You took quite the risk following us, Mairsil. Not many want to associate themselves with a group of heretics, or whatever the Chantry is calling us these days.” Dexsia shrugged her shoulders, the fur collar of her cloak tickling her face. Despite the snow, ice and cold just outside, the tavern managed to be stifling warm between the dozens of people and the hearty fire crackling in the background.

 

“It was one I was willing to take. Thank the Maker that it worked in my favor, or else I’d be dead from the cold or still living in Highever. I’m sure the death toll is already high enough and you’ve all barely started.” Dexsia muttered the last bit, turning her gaze away from Bull. “I suppose I should thank you, for letting me in.”

 

“Eh, don’t mention it. Boss means well; she’s just trying to protect everyone we have left while we rebuild our forces. Don’t want to let in the enemy by accident. Can’t say I blame her. Highever you say? Suppose you don’t know the Hero of Ferelden, do you?” He flicked a lazy glance at Dexsia, his attention primarily focused on the red-headed barmaid serving a pair of recruits on the other side of the room.

 

Dexsia shakes her head no. “I can’t say I ever had the privilege. My father owned an inn, so I spent most of my time helping there. I did see him once though, right before he was conscripted. Why do you ask?” She prayed that he wouldn’t question her further about it; the web of lies that was her cover was quickly becoming convoluted. _I’ll have to write all of this out soon_.

 

“Curiosity. I like a good story sometimes. Can you hold your own in a fight? We need more recruits. Though, it can’t hurt to have another worker. I’m sure someone will find use of you.” Bull squinted his one eye at her, as if trying to glean from her stiff posture and sour countenance if she was any use in a fight. With a low harumph, the Qunari waved a hand at the barmaid, who came running, large tankard in hand. “Make yourself comfortable, Mairil. Welcome to the Inquisition. At least until the Boss comes and finds you.”

 

“It’s Mairsil..” _Already testing me, are you?_ “And thanks.”

 

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity, spent meeting some of the companions that were in Skyhold. Dexsia learned that the Inquisitor was off in Fallow Mire looking for missing members of the Inquisition, but they would be back any day now. One of the advisors, the Antivan, had someone show her to a small room, claiming that once they got back on their feet, better accommodations would (hopefully) be provided.

 

Dexsia stuffed what few belongings she had into the chest at the end of her bed, careful not to drop the dagger she held. It had been a gift, carefully designed and created especially for her, though purely for show. It would take getting used to, certainly, after years of wielding a staff. Thankfully she’d used her time traveling to learn a bit of non-magical combat.  She hadn’t expected it to be so heavy in her hands, but yet there it was It came as no surprise when Iron Bull had asked if she could fight, and she was almost overjoyed that he hadn’t made her answer, for her answer would have been no. Not in the sense he probably meant anyway. Sure, she could use a weapon if hard-pressed, but by no means was she skilled. With a sigh of relief, Dexsia carefully wrapped one of her shirts around the dagger and buried it amidst the sea of drab clothing she purchased in Highever to replace her more outlandish Tevinter robes. _All part of the game._ It wouldn’t bode well if she outed herself just yet.

 

It was obvious that Bull was already onto her by the way he had watched her in the tavern, and later when he checked on her to see if she was “settling in.” Dexsia didn’t know what his role was in the Inquisition, but she was sure Bull was watching her closely. The casual slip up with her name tipped her off. Mairsil was a normal enough name, which she learned in her quick visit to Highever. Not a single person blinked twice when she used it, but yet it was enough to give Iron Bull pause. There wasn’t much she could do to change the color of her skin, and she could only mask the way she spoke for so long.

 

_I was born in Highever twenty five years ago. My mother was of Tevinter blood, my father a lowly Ferelden innkeeper. She left when I was three, leaving my father in a deep depression, one that would eventually kill him. I received only one letter from my mother, inviting me to live with her in Qarinus. I burnt the letter in the hearth. I spent the rest of my time helping my father run the inn, learning about herbs and learning to fight from watching the guards’ training every morning. My father passed away two years ago from depression and the Blight, leaving me to care for the inn. News spread about what happened at the Conclave, then about Alexius, hearsay about Skyhold following shortly. I sold the inn, packed my bags, and came here, desperate to help a cause I believed in._

 

Repeating the story helped, and slowly the details of her “life” filled in, stories about friendships bridging the gap between lies into the realm of believability. She climbed into the low bed, tucking herself into the pile of fur and blankets. Closing her eyes, Dexsia wondered if Bull was telling the others about his suspicions now. _I would if I were him. I’ll have to keep a close eye on him. And the other companions._

 

With the flick of a hand, a small fire sprung to life in the fireplace, slowly reducing itself to charred logs during the course of the night.

 

**

 

Dexsia spent her time resting and becoming familiar with the fortress. The gardens proved to be her favored haunt; she sat for hours studying the plants and making short notes in a thin journal. She grew impatient though, waiting for the Inquisitor and her companions to return. There was only so much ale she could drink or walking around to be done before she became bored.

 

Three days after her arrival, the morning found Dexsia stumbling with exhaustion to the main hall, tying back the dreaded length of her dark hair with a scrap of leather cord. Dexia blinked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand until the sunlight spilling through the high windows wasn’t so blinding anymore. Morning had never been her favorite thing; she would rather be awake during the dark of the night and sleep during the day, but unfortunately the Inquisition didn’t work that way.

 

“It’s about time you woke up! The Inquisitor returned last night; she’s wanting to meet you,” Varric chuckled, looking up from the piece of parchment he was rapidly scribbling notes onto. “It’s nearly time for lunch, Sleepy.”

 

The dwarf had regaled the dinner crowd with dozens of stories the previous night, dishing out tales about the Champion of Kirkwall and their wild escapades. One story had caught her interest from where she had sat, several tables away, the one including the escaped slave Fenris and his former master Danarius. Her interest had piqued at the mention of the magister. He was well known for his profound experiments (twisted ones in Dexsia’s opinion) and it was all she could do to remain neutral.

 

“Perhaps if you hadn’t kept everyone up half the night with your inane stories, I would have gone to bed earlier,” Dexsia snapped, claiming the seat across from Varric. “I swear I had nightmares about that Bone Pit you were telling us all about.”

 

“Just you wait until you hear some of my other stories; they’ll make you scream in terror.”

 

“Or out of boredom,” a gruff, female voice added from behind her. “Varric has a bad habit of not getting to the point. One of the worst storytellers I know.”

 

“Like you’ve met tons in your lifetime, Inquisitor. Especially of my caliber. I’ll let you two talk. I think my company might be enjoyed better by someone else.” Dexsia grinned despite herself, having seen the two interact during supper the night before. Varric gathered his things and left, winking over his shoulder as he made his way outside.

 

The Inquisitor was not what she had expected. Granted, she’d seen few Qunari women in her time. Her horns were smooth, spiraling backwards, almost like the antlers on a stag. A long, thick mane of white hair fell in waves over her shoulders and down her back, the first oddity that Dexsia noticed. The few others she had seen had either no hair or had it cropped short. Not only that, but her high cheekbones were covered in dark freckles like the night sky. She was much more feminine than Dexsia had imagined, considering the rumors she’d been told. The Inquisitor took up Varric’s seat, clasping her hands together and resting her chin on them, her elbows on the table.

 

“Bull says your name is Mairsil? From Highever?” Dexsia nodded, remaining silent, mostly still in awe of the Inquisitor. “Right. Well my name is Saya. My companions say you are wanting to join the Inquisition. Is this true?”

 

“I can fight. I know a good deal about herbs too, poisons, potions, you name it. Honestly I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Inquisitor.” Dexsia hoped her short declaration would prove to be enough for the Qunari.

 

“I find it strange that you journeyed so far when you have so few ties to our cause. What do you have to say about that?” Of course Saya would be cautious of her as well. No one in their right mind would blindly accept a recruit with so little information about them, let alone one with a mediocre backstory like her own. The Inquisitor pressed her lips together in a firm line, waiting for Dexsia’s reply. _Maker, I swear that if you allow me to succeed in this…_. “Well?”

 

“With all due respect, Inquisitor, I don’t think it strange at all. I may not know the entirety of what you are up against, but if I have the ability to help, to save my loved ones from a fate potentially worse than death, I would do everything I could to do so. If that means branding myself a heretic before the Chantry because of an opportunity to restore peace, then so be it. I will not sit idly by while others fight for me.”

 

“Hmph, another patriot,” Saya mused, squinting her abnormally bright blue eyes at Dexsia. Was it possible that she had thrown off enough suspicion by her speech? She didn’t believe for one second that Saya was completely fooled. Oh no, the Qunari was an intelligent woman from what she could tell; one unlikely to be affected by the average liar. Not only was Iron Bull cautious, but so was the head of the Inquisition. _This may cause a few problems._ After a few moments of silence, she responded, speaking in halting, almost unsure phrases. “You’re on probation; we don’t trust you as of yet. We’ll put you through the paces tomorrow, determine where we can use you. See that you go to the quartermaster so they can outfit you with some armor, weapons, whatever you need-”

 

“Your Worship! News from the Orlesian court!” A messenger’s call interrupted Saya, who growled lowly in irritation.

  
“I’ll be glad when they’re dealt with,” Saya muttered quietly, rising to her feet with a predatorial grace that both frightened and enchanted Dexsia. “Welcome aboard, Mairsil. I hope you live long enough to see this to the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos, etc, fuel me. lemme know how you think I'm doing.


End file.
